


This boy is trans

by vespirus



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair is trans and bi and ADHD and autistic, Autism Spectrum, Bisexual Male Character, Gen, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vespirus/pseuds/vespirus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair is a Big Trans and he tries ... pre canon</p>
            </blockquote>





	This boy is trans

**Author's Note:**

> First time really posting a fic on here so sorry if the formatting's weird?? Also first time writing in a while, because I just [clenches fist] really want trans Alistair content. + unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine, and feel free to let me know of any and I'll fix them!

They sent him to the Chantry when he was ten.

He said goodbye to all the stable workers, his friends. They told him he was a boy if he felt like one no matter what others said or how he'd felt before, they called him 'Stair and Ali and hugged him and patted him on the back and told him when he did a good job and were kind when he didn't. He wondered if that was the reason he had to leave.

The Arlessa told Eamon to send him away and she didn't do any of that. She would make him dress up in formal clothes that were tight in the middle and had long trailing skirts that he tripped over, and would take away his stuff and tell him to just be a normal girl, and told him not to flap and rock and do all those things he did and she yelled at him all the time.

It was hard to think of a time he was around her when she wasn't angry at him. Even when she probably wasn't, it still felt like it.  
Either way, that was all behind him now. He wasn't going to be living with the stable boys or the Arlessa anymore.

The Chantry wasn't terrible, but it wasn't great either. He didn't want to be there in the first place, and everyone seemed to so committed and they all talked about faith and dedication and he didn't really feel a connection to any of it. They all called him by his name and said he and him when they talked about him at least, so that was something.

He heard the sisters talking about it some (at night, when he was supposed to be asleep and definitely not sneaking to the kitchen for a midnight snack) and they said that the Arl had taken the cleric aside to talk about Alistair's "situation" and that she was going to go along with it as long as he didn't bring too much attention to it.

The training was rough but he threw himself into it -- it's not like there was much else to do around the monastery.

He didn't do his weird stuff around the others (the thing where he shook his hands and bounced on his feet and wiggled around and the thing where he rocked back and forth and rubbed his hands on everything to feel the texture and said the same thing over and over and over and the thing where he curled into himself and pulled his hair and shook when things were too loud and too real and too there and too much) or at least he tried not to.

They all probably figured something was off about him anyways.

He channeled his energy into his training, instead. He would read books from the library about nice stories of people adventuring and falling in love and when he got to a good part and he wanted to bounce or flap, he would do push-ups or run laps. He would read and read and run laps and think about the characters and the story and build up fantasies in his head about it and he would mutter phrases from the books to himself as he did his solo training. When the sisters talked about Andraste and faith he would think about the stories.

He just wished he could talk to someone about it. The other boys in the Chantry didn't seem very keen on the fluffy kinds of stories he was reading though. He didn't get why.

That was how he passed a lot of years in the monastery. As he got older, ever closer to the looming future of Templarhood that he was uncomfortably resigned to, he noticed more things. Not a lot changed, but now he was starting to understand the parts in the books where the protagonist would meet a girl or boy and thought they were beautiful and wanted to kiss them and fell in love. The boys and girls of the Chantry were all very cute. It made it hard to concentrate on his training in all honesty. But he had been living with Andraste's rules for a while now, and he knew you weren't supposed to feel that way. He kept his mouth shut and his head down and when someone especially cute tried to talk to him he just looked at the floor and said he had training to do and promptly left.

His body also started changing, frustratingly enough. His chest was no longer smooth and flat as it had been, and one of the sisters took him aside for a "talk" about what would be happening to him every month soon enough. The other boys were filling out with deep voices and muscular chests and facial hair. Alistair didn't really want a beard but the option would have been nice! He worked on his voice, talking as low as he could without tiring quickly of it. His throat hurt frequently, but it was worth it to sound more like he ought.

He took to wearing baggy clothes and layers when that didn't suffice so he didn't have to see his growing chest. He sewed together stretchy material with some clasps to keep it flat. Thankfully his armor was bulky enough that he didn't look any different when wearing it. He started training in his armor more because of this, raising some eyebrows of those who had heard his many complaints of the weight and annoyance of it before.

When he was nineteen, a Warden visited.

He had heard about the Wardens before, old stories about heroism and epic battles. They hosted a tourney in the Warden's honor, and Alistair was quick to volunteer. He fought his best, but fell to multiple opponents. He comforted himself in that he wasn't really a Templar yet and he didn't really want to be one so there was no dignity to be lost in it, really.

He was thinking about what kind of reputation he would have if he weren't to become a Templar when one of the sisters came and told him that the Warden wished to speak with him. He was directed to the guest room and was ushered in to be greeted by the man who had looked from one of the best seats at the tourney. Alistair bowed his head with a murmured "Ser."

"Alistair!" The man cried warmly, putting a large hand on his shoulder. "That is your name, is it not? I'm Duncan, I heard of you from Arl Eamon, I did not realize this is the monastery to which they sent you."

Alistair looked up at the mention of his adoptive father. "Yes ser, he raised me. Some."

"Good, good. He is a good man. Do you enjoy your life here with the Chantry? You're to become a Templar soon, I hear." Alistair grimaced.

"Don't remind me. My life was pretty much signed away to Andraste without my input. I'm living with it."

"Hm." Duncan gave him an appraising look, which turned into a smile and a pat on the shoulder and Duncan pulling away to look at some papers he had laid out before Alistair came in. "Do you know what the Grey Wardens do, Alistair?"

"Battle darkspawn?"

"Well, yes. We're a group of warriors who defend Thedas from darkspawn. We recruit people from all over, of all backgrounds. I myself used to be a thief and was arrested before I was brought into their ranks."

"Do you tell everyone that? I mean, you guys were just allowed back into Ferelden recently so I don't think you would want to go around advertising that you're all thieves and bandits."

He said this slightly bitterly, but Duncan just chuckled and gestured for him to sit down.

"I have an offer for you, Alistair. I've heard about you from the Arl and the sisters. I watched you in the tourney and I think you did very well. You didn't win, but you showed a lot of heart. The Wardens could use a loyal, trustworthy person like you."

"Gee, thanks. So the Grey Wardens are like a second place prize for losers who don't have an attitude?"

"I wouldn't say you don't have an attitude," Duncan said with a sparkle in his eye, "but you can think of it how you wish. I'm giving you the chance to join us and travel to protect Thedas, battling a real threat. Would you rather stay here and become a Templar, scaring mages into submission?"

"Well, when you put it like that I suppose the Wardens don't sound so bad."

That's what he said, but he felt a huge surge of relief at the realisation that he could change his future. He didn't have to become a

Templar, he didn't have to stay here, he could carve his own place in the world.

Things were finally looking up.


End file.
